Trish kept kicking and screaming. Jim drove to the deserted park as they had planned. In the back seat Cash spoke very quietly. In a soothing voice that distracted Trish’s loud, abusive screaming, she was forced to be quiet to hear him. ”You will have to calm down now, Patricia. We are all here to help you. No one is going to hurt you.” He tried to rub her arms as he spoke softly, but she wrenched free and tried to slap him.
“Get that devil out of the car. I hate him. I hate you.” She kicked at the back of the front seat and spit at Jim. Looking at Hank, she swore and kicked at his seat too “What are you doing here?”
Jim had tears in his eyes, but stared out at the park as he and Hank were instructed. It was late afternoon, but they drove through the deserted park several times to avoid suspicion. He was always on the lookout for police cars. In the early evening they finally went to the apartment, parking near the side entrance. Trish was getting hoarse and tired. Her shouting had reached a new low and she still kicked, but not as venomously. They walked closely around her, holding her arms down against her body and giving her no chance to strike out. Once out of the street light’s range, they picked her up and carried the exhausted girl into the apartment. Cash threw his coat on the floor, picked up two folding chairs and headed for the room where they had boarded the windows. “Pete and Hank, stay with her, please while I grab a sandwich and a cup. I’ll relieve you in five.” He threw a sleeping bag into the room and closed the door behind him. True to his word he came out in five minutes, Looking at Hank and Pete he said quietly, “Jim’s going to need you. He’s a broken man.” He forced her into the room, closed the door, and was ready for her attack.
Trish pounded on Cash’s chest and kicked at his legs. When he put up his hands out to defend himself, she gave him a blow to the chin that set even Cash seeing the white light. He marveled at her strength and agility. He stood up and held her tightly in his arms. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her. She swore and kicked at him. She cried and bit her lip until blood ran down her chin, then she smeared it on his shirt. When Cash momentarily let her go in a moment of quiet, she punched him in the stomach. She collapsed sobbing, sitting in the folding chair and holding her arms tightly to her body. She closed her eyes. For the first time there was silence in the little apartment.
“Thank you,” Simmons said to no one in particular. “Are you hungry? Of course you are.” He went to the door and asked for a sandwich and a coke. Then he sat and unwrapped the sandwich and held half out to her. She turned away from him. He stood up, rewrapped the sandwich and laid it and the coke on the mattress. “Eat when you are famished. We have a long way to go, Patricia, a long way.” He sat opposite her and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, his eyes had the glint of an eagle and they seemed to bore through her very being. If Trish had been afraid before, now she was terrified.